


No Harm Done

by IonaNineve



Category: Forever (TV), Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Prisoner of War, Undercover Missions, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IonaNineve/pseuds/IonaNineve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colonel Robert Hogan has a problem, an impossible mission. Dr. Henry Morgan has a problem, he's been taken prisoner. Will their two problems be the other's solution? Or will it blow up in their faces.<br/>Familiarity with Hogan's Heroes not needed. Summary of show provided in notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Big Problem

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm weird and watch old TV shows and this idea popped into my head. Hope you enjoy.  
> Summary:  
> Hogan and his fellow POW's run an underground escape route and sabotage ring right under the nose of the Germans, Gestapo, and particularly the incompetent commandant Colonel Klink and the with neutral help of Sergeant Schultz.

“Uh, Colonel, we’ve got trouble.” Kinchloe said hesitantly, exiting the tunnel under the bed.

“What is it, Kinch?” Hogan asked from the stove.”

“London’s got something new for us, something big.”

“And…”

“And it’s a doozy, suicide mission really.”

“Wonderful. What is it?”

“Feeding false development information to the krauts, meanwhile partially blowing up a lab.”

“Not the whole thing? Carter will be disappointed.”

“London was very specific,” Kinch replied,” there have to be survivors.”

“Hopefully that’ll include our guy. Did they provide this false intel?” 

“And leave it up to chance? Not this time.” Kinch produced a paper with descriptions of the fake technology.

“Must be important.” Hogan said looking over the information. “This isn’t about weaponry, it’s about medicine.” He noted in some confusion, scanning the page of medical jargon again. “Still have the connection set up?”

“They’re on hold, figured you’d want to have a nice little chat with them.”

“That I would.” Hogan entered the tunnel behind Kinch, the bed falling into place behind them. Accepting the receiver he addressed himself to London. “Alright what’s up with this assignment?”

“Well, Hogan, Gerry’s been getting a little too close to a certain, very helpful medical discovery for comfort. One of your men must be captured and feed the laboratory false discoveries that we’ve made. It’s important that it’s convincing, that’ll keep them busy elsewhere.” The operator explained. “However, we’d prefer them not to maintain possession of what they do have. The records of the lab must be blown up, survivors are necessary though.”

“But that’s as good as suicide for my man.”

“Good luck, then.” The operator then hung up.

“Thanks.” Hogan muttered irritably, returning the receiver. He then ascended back to the barracks.

“What’s the long face about, Colonel?” Carter asked, entering the barracks followed by Newkirk and LeBeau.

“Assignment from London.”

“What sort of assignment?” LeBeau asked.

“One like nothing we’ve done yet. I have to tell you, it’s dangerous.” Hogan began, leaning forward onto the table, around which they had all gathered.

“If there’s girls count me in.”

“Not that kind of dangerous, Newkirk.”

“Well, why don’t we give Carter a go at this one, then, the brave little chap.” Newkirk replied as innocently as he could manage, his fingers interlocking in front of him.

“Hey!” Carter exclaimed, indignantly.

Hogan shook his head. “Nope, we need Carter.”

“There’s explosives?” The young man seemed altogether too excited by the prospect.

“That’s only part of it. We need a man inside the building too, giving the Germans false new medical discoveries.”

“In the building that’s getting blown up?” LeBeau inquired, trying to sound more incredulous than concerned, and succeeding.

“That’s suicide!” Newkirk cried.

“I agree but it’s our orders. So, any takers?” No one said anything, or looked up from the floor for that matter.

“Certainly no picnic.” Kinch said at last.

“You can say that again.” LeBeau mopped.

“We’ll all draw straws.” Hogan concluded after another moment of silent thought, they all looked at him. “After a good meal. LeBeau.” A sigh of relief went around the table.

“Yes, Colonel, coming right up.” The Frenchman leapt at the chance for distraction in food preparation, heading toward their stash of non-regulation food.

“No need to rush there mate.” Newkirk said from the table. “If this is going to be my last meal, I’d it to be a long time in coming.”


	2. A Multitude of Problems

“We’re going down.” The pilot yelled from the cockpit.

“We can’t, we’re still behind enemy lines!” The navigator shouted in reply from the back.

“Don’t got any choice! Engine’s been hit.” The copilot called back.

“Sorry, doc, doesn’t look like we’re getting you to your destination. You’d better bail out. The rest of you too, parachuted on.” The plane crew moved toward the tail, where the parachutes were stored, all except the pilot.

Passing the passenger, the navigator took his arm. “Come on doc.”

“I shall remain where I will be needed. You had better follow your orders, corporal.” Dr. Henry Morgan, captain in His British Majesty’s Medical Corps, answered remaining where he stood.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. Where you’re needed is alive.” The pilot shouted, trying to control the fall.

“Where I am needed is with the injured and sick. That shall not be among those landing softly in that field.” He could sense the man about to respond. “I do not wish to pull rank, lieutenant, but I will.”

“Very well, get as far back in the tail as you can.” A pause. “The rest of you, out now!” The crew jumped one by one and descended slowly under white parachutes to the edge of an open field; they wouldn’t be far from friendly territory. they had a good chance. However the plane continued its now spiralling descent. In the last few moments before impact the pilot finally gave up the controls and hurried to get as far back as he could. Impact arrived with a jarring crash and the sudden confusion of basic direction as the craft shift from the top of the cockpit to the back. A great deal of debris turned to sharpnel within.

When the plane settled, voluntary movement and groans came from the occupant. Henry was the first to free himself from the rubble; having suffered only bruised ribs, a grazed arm, a probable concussion, and a number of contusions. He then began to assist the worse off pilot in extricating himself from the debris.

“She’ll blow, lucky she didn’t already.” The lieutenant said weakly, in contrast to his earlier commands Henry helped getting him out of the wreckage and a safe distance away, supporting him. Once able to stop, he set to examining the man. The results proved a broken leg and arm and some nasty gashes in his side and leg.

“I’d wager you’re glad I stayed now.”

“I guess, doc, thanks. Still a dumb thing to do.”

Looking around Henry saw the last of the men making for cover in the woods, in the other direction was a troop of German soldiers coming toward them, guns held at the ready. Unable to raise his busy hands, Henry shouted in their general direction in German. “We surrender. This man is wounded!”

“You speak German, doc?”

“Live long enough you pick a few things up.” The doctor replied, trying to secure the wounds as best he could for the move to wherever they were likely headed. “Remember, lieutenant-”

“Name, rank and serial number. I was gonna remind you.” The airman said amused, biting through the growing pain in his leg.

“This is not my first rodeo, as the Americans say.” Henry added as he finished securing the splint on the other man’s leg, bringing a hissing intake of breath from the patient.

They were led, one supporting the other, at gunpoint to a truck hidden in the far woods and loaded onto it. Bound for incarceration, after a long and jostling ride, they were taken to the gates of a stalag.


	3. A Possible Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: (since I kinda forgot about it) I don't own either Forever or Hogan's Heroes.  
> Thanks everyone whose commented and kudoed.  
> Here's a nice long chapter where Henry is introduced to the wonderful Stalag and all our friends. More schinanagins to come.

After all the potentially doomed had had their fill of the large meal, Hogan was arranging the straws. Little remained of the meal, but it was enough to draw the presence of one Sergeant Schultz, who was always attracted by LeBeau’s cooking.

“Hey Schultz, what’s up?” Carter greets cheerily.

“Is that LeBeau’s cooking I smell?” The sergeant asked hopefully.

Through the open door Hogan saw a truck coming through the gates. “Depends, what’s in the truck?”

“I know  _ nothing _ .” Schultz insisted, but a plate of extra food waved under his nose quickly weakens his resolve. “I know  _ no _ -“ *sniff, sniff* “Two new prisoners.”

“What nationality?”

“English.” Hogan nodded at the small Frenchman, and the enticer released the plate to the informer. Finishing the food, Schultz looked around at the suspiciously calm barracks. “What are you up to, now?”

Newkirk leans coolly on the table and answers with sly nonchalance. “Oh, you know. The usual, blowing up a factory, plotting Old Hitler’s as-”

“I hear  _ nothing _ , I see  _ nothing _ , I know  _ nothing _ !” Schultz exclaimed, his eyes shut and hands clapped over his ears, exiting the barracks and the door shut behind him.

“I think I’ll go visit our dear commandant.” Hogan said from the door before disappearing through it. On the way he saw trio approaching Klink’s office in front of him. The prisoner was hidden, but for the top of his head of mussed brown hair, by the two guards. The absence of the other prisoner confuses the colonel until he notices that the escort was coming from the direction of the unused infirmary.

By the time Hogan reached the office, the prisoner was already within. Without hesitation he opened the door and entered. Klink was in the midst of bragging on the camp’s supposed no-escape record. Now able to see the newest addition to Stalag 13, Hogan notes the man’s upright unmoving stance, hands held behind his back, identifying him as one of those stalwart often troublesome English types. The uniform further identified the prisoner as a medical officer.

“And so you see captain- Hogan!” The German colonel interrupted himself to whine.

* * *

 

Having been escorted into the office of the commandant, the prisoner stood before the man himself. The colonel, formerly of the Luftwaffe judging by the pins upon this chest, wore a monocle which greatly detracted from any intelligence his features might otherwise have possessed.

“Name.” The commandant stated in way of inquiry.

“Captain Doctor Henry Morgan.”

“Welcome to Stalag 13, Captain! I am Colonel Klink, commandant.” Henry’s first impression was not helped when the man spoke. “Here at Stalag 13 we have never had a successful escape.” The warnings continued in an unending flow of repetition. Just as Klink was finishing this, Henry heard the door open, and the commandant stopped and addressed the entering person in a whining voice. It was then that Henry looked over to the intruder, a fellow prisoner. He was surprised to see that a prisoner was permitted to simply enter the commandant’s office.

“Come on, Klink, you know I’m allowed to be here when you talk to a new prisoner by-”

“Yes, yes, the Geneva Convention, I know.” Klink relented, taking his seat. “Captain Morgan, this is Colonel Hogan, Superior Officer of the prisoners.”

Henry inclined his head toward the officer. “Colonel.”

“Captain.” Hogan returned. “You’re a doctor, huh?”

“How did you know that?” Klink asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“By his uniform.” Hogan replied, tone appropriate for the sheer stupidity of the question.

The commandant seemed to pick up on this. “By his uniform, yes of course. I knew that. I was just testing you, Hogan.” The last sentence was delivered with a wagging of his finger at the American colonel.

“Yes, I am.” Henry answered Hogan’s earlier question.

“We haven’t had one of them around for awhile.”

“Judging by the state of the infirmary, I should say so. It’s utterly deplorable! You might as well not have one. I left two guards over there cleaning it.” Hogan was impressed, the man hadn’t been here more than five minutes and he was already ordering the guards around. Henry turned back to face Klink and stood silent, waiting for the man to speak further.

“If you’re done with him, Klink, I’ll take our newest family member to barracks 2, he can bunk with us.” Klink began to stutter some incoherent opposition to this suggestion. “Great, bye then.” Hogan put an arm across Henry’s shoulders, ignoring the doctor’s tension of discomfort from the action, and turned him toward the door and out of the office. Once out, the colonel freed the doctor’s shoulders. “How’d you manage that bit with the guards?”

“Being a doctor lends one certain leverage, even over the enemy.”

“Sounds like you’ve got POW experience, Morgan.”

“I’ve seen the inside of a few camps in my time. None quite so ill-run as this.”

“We call it home. So how’d you escape?”

“I have my ways.” Henry was slightly wary of confiding in Hogan at the time being. 

“Care to share with the class, captain.”

“Forgive me colonel, but you seem rather comfortable with the commandant…” Henry half-accused.

“We’ll get to both sides of that conversation cleared up in just a moment. And here we are.” Hogan opened the door to a barracks and entered, Henry following a little behind. “Hey boys, meet the new kid in town.” Then ushering Henry in, he continued. “Everyone, meet Dr. Morgan. Morgan, this is LeBeau, Carter, Kinchloe, and your fellow countryman Newkirk.” Each man waved at the mention of his name.

“Hello.” Henry said to the group at large.

“Normal procedure, colonel?” Kinchloe asked Hogan.

“Yep. Kay, Morgan, have a seat.” Hogan, pulled out a chair for the doctor who sat down obediently and waited.

“So…” The young Carter began, in an overly dramatic detective voice. “Who’s the king of England?” He questioned, abruptly turning and placing his hands on the table.

“His Majesty King George VI.”

Carter’s eyes narrowed as he nodded slightly, when he was about to ask another an arm across his chest pushed him back. “Alright, Carter, that’s enough.” Hogan told the put out corporal. “Newkirk, take over.”

“Right ho. What was the dear monarch’s former title?”

“The Duke of York, a title traditionally conferred to the second royal son.” A few perfectly answered questions later, as Hogan paced past him a humming sound emanated from the colonel, a familiar tune. “If you expect me to jump up and hiel at the sound of Flight of the Valkyries, you will be sorely disappointed, Colonel Hogan.” Henry stated matter of factly.

Kinch diplomatically responded. “We must be thorough, you understand.”

“We don’t want any dirty Kraut spies.” The little Frenchman LeBeau added sourly.

“You’ve been suspiciously secretive, Morgan. And the Germans are known for training their men to look, sound and act like allied soldiers. That high-born, educated accent is easy to identify as British and easy enough to learn, it’s Oxford isn’t it?”

“Cambridge.” Henry snapped the correction.

Hogan raised an eyebrow and looked over at Newkirk, who stood arms crossed. “He’s the real deal, loyalty to the Alma Mater is a distinctly English trait.”

“Alright, welcome to the crew, Morgan.”

“We’re just going to believe that he’s a doctor?” LeBeau asked, still suspicious for the sake of their two country’ s old time feud.

“Not like we have anyone who could check.” Kinch said.

“If you’d heard him go off on the infirmary you wouldn’t doubt it.” Hogan noted.

Henry waited patiently through this discussion, held as though he wasn’t sitting right there, this far anyway. “I am still here you know.”

Carter started the welcomes. “Glad to have you doc.”

“Same, sorry for thinking you were a Kraut.” LeBeau admitted as his welcome.

The other Englishman followed. “Well I never doubted you for a second, these eyes can spot a Brit like that.” Newkirk said, ending with a snap of his fingers.

Kinch brought up the rear of the weapon band. “Welcome.” He shook Henry’s hand.

“Where were you headed when you got captured?”

“Allied lines in Germany from France.” Hogan seemed to consider this a moment. “Now that we’ve established my loyalty to King and Country, care to establish your own allegiance, Colonel?” Henry starred the superior officer down, his own suspicions not fully relieved, they all seemed too comfortable in this place, with far too much sway over the admittedly dim commandant.

“You’re not going to give me the old “the captured soldier’s first duty” speech, are you? We’re not traitors. The camp’s so called perfect no-escape record is grossly exaggerated. Let’s say there’s a lot of unofficial escapes, and that we’re under assignment.”

“Underground escape stop-point. You’re Goldilocks.” Henry stated his deduction. The effect was the return of suspicion. “I was stationed at the end point in England in ‘42. You do good work, Hogan.”

“Okay, you’re already in the loop. You’re turning out to be more useful than we before. Newkirk, show Morgan around the tunnels.”

Newkirk went over to a bunk and tapped the upper frame, exposing a tunnel entrance. “Come on, mate, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“Kinch, run our friend’s credentials by London for confirmation. Just to be sure.” Hogan said, once the two had gone below.

“Yes, sir.”

The expanse of the network of tunnels, and the elaborate operations amazed Henry, even though he had spent months seeing the results of these men’s attentions. “Down that way we have our exits outside the fence. Handy for visits to the nearby town, and French Underground connections. These tunnels connect to the other barracks, all except 3 that is.”

Up above, Kinch returned to Hogan. “Finally got through to London, they confirm, everything he said is true. His record’s nothing to snicker at either.”

“Good to hear, he might be very useful to us.”

“And this is the end of our tour, thank you for traveling with Stalag 13 express please exit via the ladder to your right.” Newkirk finished, before following Henry back up into barracks 2.

"Quite the setup you have down there, Colonel." Henry praised stepping onto the wood floor.

“We’re thinking of renovating, maybe repainting, its rather drab.”


	4. A Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly the gang messing around, with some serious business toward the end. Hope you enjoy.

Henry was in the infirmary, busy cleaning the space to his satisfaction while tending with his limited supplies to the wounded lieutenant. He was determined, however long or short his stay might be here, to bring this place to a level as close to sanitary as he could, having lived through as much medical history as he had he knew well the importance of this.

A few hours later this became more difficult due to the large distraction that is the men of barracks 2. “Afternoon, doc!” Newkirk greeted, leading the group of three into the building.

“Good afternoon.”

“We thought we’d bring over some things. A kinda camp-warming gift.” Carter said, who was carrying a covered basket which he held up.

“It’s just some extra supplies from our red cross packages. And some other things.” LeBeau elaborated as Henry accepted the basket from the young American.

“Thank you.” Lifting the covering cloth he saw a load of basic medical supplies, which seemed to be the unused supply they had received since their internment, as well as some not so basic supplies.

“We have our connections.” Newkirk said with a wry quirk of the mouth and wink. “So we’re also here to offer our precious company, it can get lonely in this little place.” He went over to the cot in which the lieutenant was laid up and sat down on a corner.

“Yeah liven it up a bit.” Carter produced from somewhere in his overlarge coat, a wooden placard and put in on the door. He turned to show off the painted inscription, “Doc Morgan’s Infirmary for the wounded and war weary”, before shutting the door. Henry couldn’t resist the small laugh nor the smile that the shingle drew from him.

“How you doing lieutenant? You haven’t met anyone yet.” LeBeau asked, joining Newkirk by the airman’s cot.

“It’s Gaines. Sore and immobile, other than that alright.”

“Great!” Nice to meet you, I’m Carter, that’s Newkirk and LeBeau!”

“Well you hang in there. Doc’s got you taken care of.”

“I know.” Lieutenant Gaines replied, giving Henry a look that said he still hadn’t forgotten the doctor’s stubbornness on the plane.

“Just remember, you’re British.” Newkirk stated, when he continued it was in a familiar gruff drawl. “We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire...Give us the tools and we will finish the job.”

This brought a hearty laugh from Gaines, and a chuckle from everyone else. “Hey, that’s good.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s come in handy too.” For a while Newkirk regaled them all with his Winston Churchill impersonation, reciting everything from Shakespeare to jokes. They were all in uproarious laughter by the time they were interrupted by a knock at the infirmary door.

Henry crossed the room back to the door. “Yes?” He inquired, opening the door to reveal a rather large guard.

“Are you the doctor?” The guard asked in a moaning tone, one hand resting on his ample stomach.

“Yes. Come in.” The man did so.

“Schultz what are you doing here?”

“My stomach hurts.” Schultz replied.

“Have you eaten something recently?” Henry asked, noticing the crumbs still attached to the corner of the guard’s mouth.

Schultz had the decency to look down ashamed as he admitted his crime. “LeBeau’s apple strudel.”

“Schultzi! That was for our dinner!” LeBeau accused emphatically waving his hands about.

“But it looked so good…” The sergeant whinned in defense. He groaned as his stomach let out a loud rumble. “And the blueberry pie… and the eclairs.”

“Seems to me the little piggy deserves his bellyache.” Carter scolded dispassionately, put out about the disappearance of their deserts.

“I’d dare say that would explain it.” Henry concluded peacefully, more amazed that LeBeau had been able to create such things within even this strange prisoner of war camp than that the sergeant had managed to eat it all. “I’ll be back in a moment with something for it.” He then disappeared into the side room, which would have been an office if not for the distinct lack of any office-like furniture. From a cabinet he extracted a few antacids, which he had found while organizing and which he strongly suspected to have been left over from the last war. Returning with them he found havoc reigning over the room he had just left. Not only had Schultz been wrapped around the middle with bandages, giving the impression that he was wearing a great white girdle, but bandages decked the rafters and bedsteads, and in the midst of it all were his three fellow prisoners looking wholly unabashed.

“We thought the place could use a bit more cheer.” Newkirk provided.

Ignoring the “decorations”, Henry unwrapped Schultz with deft speed, handed him the antacids with instructions and spent the man on his way.

“You know what they say, carpi deum.” The coy Englishman added, as the three began taking down the extraneous expressions of cheer.

“That’s carpe diem.” Henry corrected gently.

“Right.” When the three left, informing the other two that evening roll call would be in two hours, all that remained of the decoration of bandages was around Gaines’s cot, at his insistence, and the rafter near the entrance, in order that in LeBeau’s words “everyone who enters be greeted with cheer”. 

In barracks 2, Hogan looked over the doctor’s record, courtesy of London, again. Kinch was right it was nothing to sneeze at, it seemed impossible that the man was so unknown. He had escaped seven POW camps, by unknown means. And by all accounts, he was a master physician and surgeon even under the most primitive conditions. Additionally he’d survived being thought dead on multiple occasions. Morgan would be the perfect man for this mission, if it weren’t risking a doctor so valuable to the Allies. And yet… perhaps it was time to consult the old sawbones himself.

The next morning, before roll call, Hogan walked over to the infirmary, knocking just below Carter’s sign. The doctor opened the door, since his arrival he’d taken up residence in the building instead of a place in the barracks. “Colonel, do you need something?”

“Was hoping for a chat.”

“Come in.” Henry led the colonel to a pair of empty cots, the doctor took a seat on one that’s pillow was all that showed sign that he had earlier vacated that very space. Hogan sat down on the one next to it facing the other man. “What did you want to discuss?” He asked interlocking his fingers in front of him.

Hogan looked over at the wounded man in cot across the room to make sure he was asleep before he spoke. “You know what we do here?”

“Yes, I believe we established that the day of my arrival.”

“The day before you came we got an assignment from London. Top priority but it’s been causing some trouble. One part is partially blowing up a building, but the other part is the dangerous one. We need to have someone inside that building, disclosing fake medical information to the Germans.”

“Questionably elaborate, as usual.”

“You can see how you would be a perfect candidate. But there’s the little problematic possibility of it being a suicide mission. This isn’t your assignment, you don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll do it.” Henry stated, as certain as he could make it sound. He risked nothing by accepting, all the others risked their lives. And if he did not survive it allowed him a perfect opportunity for escape.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. As Kinchloe said, no one else has medical knowledge, which will be necessary if you wish to fool other medical professionals.”

“OK. When you make it back, we’ll get you back to England so you can return to your actual assignment. Which we would’ve done anyway.”

“What about Colonel Klink’s perfect record?”

“Schultz will take care of any inconsistent roll counts.” He then motioned through, hear-no-evil, see-no-evil, speak-no-evil. “This is all top secret, you understand.”

“I’m very good at keeping secrets, Colonel, I assure you.”

“I don’t doubt it. Come by the barracks later and we’ll all fill you on your mission.” Henry nodded his understanding and Hogan got up to leave. “Nice sign.” He commented at the open door.

“Yes, I rather like it.” Henry said with a smile and jovial tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering:  
> "Carpe diem" means: seize the day  
> "Carpi deum" (what Newkirk said) can roughly translate (using accusative as subject of infinitive) to: the god is to be seized


	5. The Set Up

All crammed into Hogan’s quarters, a door away from the rest of barracks 2, the crew met with Dr. Morgan for a counsel discussing the plan. “Once in their custody you will be communicating to the Germans the Allied development of… an oral preventative measure against chemical gaseous exposure?” Hogan read from the detailed notes from London, mostly clueless to the meaning of what he had just read.

“What utter nonsense.” Henry stated in reaction to this.

Kinch was the one of all the confused occupants to ask aloud, “What is it, exactly?”

“A pill that protects its taker from poisonous gas. If they want to send the Germans scrambling to catch up to a fictitious development, this is certainly the thing to do it.”

“I give ‘em points for creativity.” Newkirk commented.

“Can you pull it off?”

“Certainly. Did they provide details or am I to make up the rest?”

“Uhh, yeah, but I have no idea what it means.” The colonel handed the paper over to the doctor, who read it and nodded, then read it again a few times. 

Returning the sheet to Hogan, he spoke. “I would suggest disposing of that.”

“You have it down?” To which, the doctor nodded tacitly. “Kinch, put this in the stove.” The sensitive information was passed again and disposed of in the lit stove in the other room. “They’ll probably ask you about other stuff…”

“I know enough about the field to convincingly keep any valuable information from them.”

“Ok. Now the rundown of the mission.” The baton of presider over the meeting was passed to the various men.

Kinch, having returned, began. “Hogan will set up Klink to bring in the Gestapo, who will call in the lab, to talk to the prisoner with intimate knowledge of recent medical advances, namely you. After an interview in Klink’s office, which we’ll be listening in on, you’ll be transferred to the laboratory for more intense questioning. There on you’re on your own.”

“While you’re there, I’ll be rigging up the explosives for the partial demolition. I’m good, but no guarantees.”

“He tends to overdo it sometimes.” Newkirk added.

Carter continued his description. “Sorry Doc. The ignition will be about an hour and a half after you get there.” 

LeBeau took over the rundown. “If you walk away from it, make your way back to Stalag 13, come up to the front gate. You won’t get shot, we’ll make sure our dear Schultzi is on duty. After that you’ll be on your way back to England, and Gaines soon after.”

“I’ll measure you today so a civilian suit will be waiting for your return.” Newkirk ended the informative session.

“How organized you all are.” Henry marveled, the group’s newfound seriousness seemed strange opposed to their jovial nature of prior.

Newkirk answered. “We’ve been at it awhile.”

“And not the most complicated thing we’ve managed.” Kinch added.

“Ok, now that Morgan’s filled in, let’s move. Kinch, tell London we’re on the job. Carter, get down and start working on those explosives, and don’t blow us all to kingdom come in the process. Newkirk, take Morgan down now and get those measurements, throw in an extra uniform too who knows what his’ll look like when he gets back.” Hogan ordered. ‘I’m going to have another talk with Klink.”

“What about me?” LeBeau asked.

“Man the barracks, act normal.”

They all scattered to their designated places.

* * *

 

Newkirk led Henry down into the tunnels and the room where the englishman ran his clothing operation. Once within, Newkirk began bustling around the cloth filled room, reminding Henry of the haberdasheries of times gone by. 

As he set to measuring the doctor, Newkirk made small talk. “So where you from?”

“I grew up in London.”

“Me too. Beautiful city.”

“Yes it was.” He answered not really thinking, but thankful afterward that it sounded like musings on the devastations of war rather than the passage of time. “Do you still call it home?”

“Yeah, doubt my place is still standing though, good thing all the important stuff’s in the basement.”

“What do you do in civilian life?”

“Professional thief, why I was chosen for this assignment. I would ask you the same but obviously you’re a doctor.”

“Yes.”

“Colonel wasn’t kiddin’, you are like a closed book. I started out asking the questions.”

“I make a living asking questions of patients. I don’t get many in return.”

Newkirk nodded in understanding, and continued to match a cloth to the doctor’s uniform jacket.

* * *

 

Hogan walked up to Klink’s door but paused a moment. “Hello, Helga, the old bald eagle in?”

“Yes, Colonel Hogan, he is.” She replied flirtatiously.

Hogan swung open the door. “Cammandant.”

“What is it, Hogan?”

“Oh nothing, just wondering if you knew where Dr. Morgan’s last assignment was.”

“Should I?”

“It’s just that it might be valuable information to certain people that one of your prisoners has intimate knowledge of medical developments.” Hogan said, pouring himself a shot glass from the decanter on Klink’s desk. “Perhaps valuable enough to win the man who brought this knowledge to the Gestapo a promotion.”

“Why are telling me this, Hogan?”

“I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already gotten out of him, am I, you the Iron Eagle of Stalag 13.”

“Of course not. Nothing gets past me.”

“The sharpest intellect of the Third Reich.” Hogan added, lifting his refilled glass in a toast.

“Yes. I think I will tell Major Hochstetter exactly what I know.”

“Marvelous idea, Colonel, absolute genius.”

“Thank you, Hogan.” Klink picked up his phone and dialed. “Get me Major Hochstetter, please. It’s very important.”

A momentary wait passed as the operator got the major on the line. “Who is it?”

“Colonel Klink.”

_ “What do you want Klink?!” _ He said already annoyed, simply by the man’s name and voice.

“I have a prisoner with certain valuable knowledge about medical developments.”

_ “What kind of developments, exactly?” _

Klink covered the receiver with his hand and asked Hogan, “What kind of developments?” 

“Something about gas masks.” Hogan shrugged.

“Gas masks.”

There was a pause, then Hochstetter replied.  _ “I will be there tomorrow with a group of medical personnel. Don’t mess this up, Klink!” _

“Of course not, sir. But there is one more thing…”

_ “What would that be?” _

“Might there be 

_ “We shall see…” _ The major snarled and hung up.

“Congratulations, Colonel.” Hogan said, rocking back on his heels, satisfied with how well his plan went.

“You may go now, Hogan.” Klink dismissed him with a wave of his hand, feeling accomplished.

“Yes, sir.”


	6. The Operation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been so long since the last update, uncooperative chapter and homework load, but this final chapter is longer to make up for it. Thank you everyone who has stuck with this story and continued to read it and commented! And if you like, feel free to tell me what you thought (or not, your choice).

The next day a German staff car moved along a road toward Stalag 13. “Colonel, staff car approaching.” LeBeau reported from the door.

“Time to make myself present for Hochstetter’s arrival.” Hogan made his way toward the exit. “He loves to see a friendly face.” He added from the door with a sly smirk.

Once he had gone, Newkirk spoke shaking his head. “Someday, I swear, Hochstetter’s gonna shoot him.”

* * *

 

Hogan made his way to stand in front of the commandant’s building to await Kink’s arrival to greet the major. Klink soon obliged, rushing out and shrugging on his coat as the car came through the gates. Exiting the vehicle, Hochstetter was followed by two people in white coats, a man and a woman. 

“Major Hochstetter, Stalag 13 welcomes you and the honored doctors.” Klink welcomed in his bowing way.

“Where is this doctor of yours, Klink?” The major asked, trying to ignore the presence of the American colonel.

“He’ll be in the infirmary. Done wonders with the place, you’ll hardly recognize it.” Hogan informed.

“Klink, what is this man doing here?!” The major demanded, in angered annoyance, pointing at the man in question.

“That’s no way to treat the welcoming committee, Major.” Hogan said in an offended, pouting tone.

Hochstetter’s face was growing red with furious indignation. “Klink!”

“Hogan, that’s enough.”

“Well, how you like that? No gratitude, none at all.” Hogan chided, shaking his head, as he returned to barracks 2.

“Now shall we go see the doctor?” Klink suggested, rubbing his hands together.

“We, Klink? You can back to your office now, you will not be needed.” The Gestapo major dismissed the bumbling colonel.

“Yes, of course not.” The colonel relented meekly and wandered off to sulk in his office.

“What a strange man.” The female doctor commented as the trio made their way to the infirmary.

“Are all these places run by men like him?” The other asked.

“To the great relief of the Third Reich, no.”

“Then why do you not replace him?”

“Because of his record, which has yet to be disproved. But it will be, I will catch Hogan one day!” Hochstetter fumed, stating the last sentence with pure frustrated assurance.

“This appears to be the place.” She said coming to a halt in front of a placarded door. “‘Doc Morgan’s Infirmary for the wounded and war weary’, seems that everything around here is a little odd.”

Hochstetter opened the door and charged in, followed by the other two. “Doctor Morgan.” 

“Yes?” Henry replied to the summons, standing up from where he been attending to Lieutenant Gaines.

“Are you the doctor with knowledge of developments?”

“I’m the only doctor here.”

“You’ll be coming with us, then.” The male doctor said.

“Doc? What’s going on?” Gaines asked from his cot, concerned.

“Nothing, lieutenant.” Henry answered and followed the three out and was seated in the back with his female fellow of medicine.

* * *

 

“Alright Carter. They’re on their way. Get ready now, then give it ten minutes and get going yourself.” Hogan ordered from his place, watching at the window.

“Yes, Colonel.” Carter confirmed. Then descended into the tunnels via the bunk to collect the necessary equipment that he had prepared.

Kinch looked up at Hogan from his hand of cards. “Think it’ll work?” He asked.

“It’d better.”

“Well, I say good luck to him.” LeBeau said.

* * *

 

After a mostly silent car ride to the nearby laboratory they all moved through the building to a small office room where he was seated.

“We’ve been told that you have certain information concerning the Allies’ development of gas masks.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Would you be willing to share that information with us?”

“Absolutely.”

“There are certain old warnings against questioning such good fortune, but in war one must be careful, Doctor Morgan. You have been very cooperative for an Englishman. Why?”

“I may be an Englishman but I am foremost a doctor. And aiding in anything that brings us closer to the end of human suffering, on all sides, is my Hippocratic duty.” He replied as London’s note had specified he should, ‘something about duty to humanity’.

The doctors seemed to understand and accept this reasoning and Hochstetter complied to their judgement. “Major, your presence is no longer needed. You can return to your headquarters.” Hochstetter nodded, and removed himself. “Very well then,” the doctor continued, turning his attention upon Henry. “What can you tell us about these developments in gas mask technology?”

“Well you see it’s not really a mask at all. They have the tendency to fail around the edges, as you know.” The two nodded in solemn agreement. “But it is instead a preventative measure taken orally. A pill containing a compound that blocks nerve receptors sensitive to those chemical weapons which are in use.”

“Extraordinary!” The female doctor marveled. “Are you familiar with the makeup of this compound?”

“No, I am not a chemist. Though I believe that the primary ingredient is some sub-byproduct of coal, it was an American contribution.”

The other doctor now descended upon this topic. “How long does this means last?”

“According to our studies, it begins to lose potency after 23 hours.” He making things up now but they seemed to be believing it, if only out of their hope that it was true.

A knock came at the door and when answered he heard the female doctor conferring with another white-coated figure about progress concerning blood transfusions. Henry stored what he overheard of this in his mind for relation upon his return.

The door had just been shut once more when a great thundering shudder rocked the building. Cracks appears in the walls and quickly traveled upward and webbed the ceiling. All were set in a state of confusion, only Henry knew that the cause was Carter’s overestimation of the explosives necessary for the job. Suddenly the ceiling above them gave a groan of protest before collapsing in upon their heads bringing with it the furnitionings of the room above.

Henry could not tell what the fates befell the other two occupants of the room for certain through the cloud of dust. Although the male doctor seemed to have the fortune to be rained upon by a few light wooden chairs, likely suffering at the least a concussion. While he himself was given the misfortune of being seated under the trajectory of a descending desk.

He was spared the crushing of his skull beneath it, but instead found its weight more slowly crushing the breath from his chest. It took only a few moments for him to succumb to the fatal effects of pressing, ones with which he was not unfamiliar. And mere seconds later he was breaking the surface of a nearby small lake. 

* * *

 

Carter looked on as the explosion went off. His expression quickly changed from satisfaction at the success, to nervous apology when it became quite clear that the job had been a bit over done. Fire now blazed among the papers of the lower record archives, as planned, but more of the building had been demolished than had been meant. He hoped that Doctor Morgan was safely out of the destruction’s reach, as he began his return to the camp.

* * *

 

Left alone and naked in an unknown part of the forests of Germany, Henry was left with little choice but to simply walk in one direction through the trees and hope he would eventually meet either a road or friendly forces. A time passed as he walked, he would guess it was about an hour, the passing had been accompanied by his cursing of his poor navigating abilities, it was a shortcoming that had brought on some scolding from his father all those decades ago.

He was beginning to shiver violently as the cold winter air hit his bare, damp skin. And with that he began to hope in earnest for some sign that he was headed toward something. As the time passed by he suspected that death by hypothermia would soon send him back to where he had started.

Blessedly, however, he soon afterward came to an road, empty at the moment. Not taking any chances, he continued just within the treeline to one side. The road seemed familiar as the one he had watched recede behind the truck than had brought him and Gaines to Stalag 13.

* * *

 

“How’d it go, Carter?” Hogan asked as the younger man rose from under the bunk trap-door.

“Uh… I over estimated alittle. Some more came down than we hoped but most of it was still up. The file room was burned.”

“And the doc?” Newkirk asked.

Carter shrugged, unable to say anything one way or the other concerning the doctor’s fate. “We can only hope.” LeBeau provided.

“With high hopes if his record can be any evidence.” Kinch added, and Hogan nodded as the only other who had read it.

Kinch went down to inform London of the mission’s success known thus far. Everyone went about business as usual, awaiting their most recent comrade’s return.

When it was not quite afternoon, as the men roamed and ‘exercised’ in the spaces near their respective barracks, a commotion arose around the front gate.

“Who goes there?” Schultz could be heard demanding of the figure at the gate. Nor could those inhabitants of barracks 2 miss the confused pronouncement of, “Doctor Morgan?”

The question inquired not only of the doctor’s presence there but also about his state of dress, or rather undress, which then became known to the prisoners with the view.

Through chattering teeth, Henry began to reply, not entirely sure what he was going to say. “I-”

“Ah ah ah,” Schultz interrupted him. “I don’t want to know.” He said with a swiping motion of the hand, before moving to unlock the gate.

Standing near barracks 2, Hogan looked on as the naked man, appearing even from this distance to be turning blue from cold. “Newkirk, better get that extra uniform for Morgan set out, looks like he needs it. And bring a blanket.”

“Right, sir.” The answer came as the Englishman disappeared into the building.

Reacting to the commotion, Klink appeared and descended upon the gate entrance. “What is this about?” He asked generally of the two persons standing there, then he turned upon the doctor. “What are you doing back? And where are your clothes?”

It was then that Hogan came to join the trio, followed by Newkirk with the blanket. “Commandant, you can’t interrogate him out in the cold in his state. It’s cruel and unusual punishment.” He immediately scolded. Ignoring the reply-less Klink, as he had upon Henry’s first arrival, Hogan began pulling him away and towards the barrack. “We’ll get him clothed and warmed up.”

As they walked back, Newkirk placed the blanket over his shaking shoulders. “Good to have you back safe, doc.” Henry could only nod thankfully. 

“Yeah we were worried.” Carter said, as he joined the retreating group.

“Particularly him, ‘cuz he thought he’d killed you.” Newkirk added.

“No harm done.” Henry reassured the young American, finding some small ability to speak.

Inside barracks 2, Henry quickly dressed into the copy of his uniform then huddled close to the tiny stove for it welcomed warmth. The gang, which had congregated within, waited for him to talk.

“I much appreciated the rescue from that... uncomfortable situation, Colonel.” Hogan nodded curtly in acknowledgement.

“Speaking of which… not that it’s much of my business, but what exactly happened to your clothes?” Newkirk asked, curious.

“...Between the tears from debris and the singing they were falling apart when I got out of the building,... then you might say going through the forest ripped the very shirt from my back and more.” He made up as reason.

“How’d it go then?”

“I would say perfectly from my end. They believed everything. And though the effects of the blast were stronger than I was expecting I am confident those to whom I revealed the infromation walked away from the rubble.”

“Great. Pick up anything additional?”

“They’re working on bettering their blood transfusion techniques. They’re also, by the sound of it, approaching our own work on plasma.”

Taking in this report Hogan looked to Kinch who was taking notes. “Relay that London.”

“Will do.” Kinch dismissed himself to the tunnels.

“Good work, Morgan, thanks.”

“Nothing but my duty.”

“You’d better go check on Gaines, he’s been worrying about you. We’ve got some arrangements to make.” 

“Perhaps I might borrow one of your men Colonel Hogan. I wouldn’t want to leave you utterly without medical service once more.”

“Sure. Any takers?”

“I’ll go.” LeBeau volunteered and followed Henry out.

When the infirmary door opened, Gaines propped himself up on his good arm as much as he could to see the arrivals. “Hey doc! I was beginning to worry. I got you this far, wouldn’t want to have lost you now.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Lieutenant.” For the next hour or so Henry walked LeBeau through some advanced first aid, uses of the few supplies they had, and how to care for Gaines’s injuries across a length of time. “Are you going somewhere, doc?”

“I would wager so, in the near future. I don’t think it’s my place to reveal specifics, but LeBeau and the others will fill you in at a later date.”

“Need to know.” Gaines surmised.

“Something of that sort.”

* * *

 

Less than a week later, Henry stood in civilian clothes, with forged papers, and carrying his uniform sewn into the lining of his baggage, at the entrance to one of the various tunnels under Stalag 13 with Hogan.

“Thank you, Colonel Hogan.”

“Don’t thank, Morgan, we owed you for that trick at the lab. Besides, though I’d love if we could keep you, we couldn’t deprive the Allies of a doctor like you.”

“For the hospitality then.” Henry extended his hand and Hogan shook it.

“Goodluck. Safe journey.”

“Bon voyage!”, “Bye!”, “Cheerio!”, “So long!” Came the farewells of the others, as they listened from the trap door above.

“Goodbye all.” Henry responded.

“Gaines will follow soon as he can get around on his own. We can pass him off as a wounded discharged soldier or something.” Hogan informed and Henry nodded agreement, then set out into the tunnel to meet with a contact who would get him to another until eventually he would make it back to London to be reassigned.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnote: I recently realized that in the third chapter I said that Hogan's operation is codename "Goldilocks", it's actually "Papa Bear" (Goldilocks is the London contact). I don't feel like going back to fix it, sorry, so I'm addressing this typo here.


End file.
